School Valentines Dance *As the party goes on, the songs, smooth, rhythmic, couples re dancing all around, yet, in the corner, by one of her tables, sit a single person, alone, curled up like a ball. A lone female figure. Weird* Do you approach?

*This was absolutely, without a doubt, the dumbest idea I’d ever had. “Fastest route,” said the GPS. “It’ll save you five minutes,” said the GPS. Now here I was, past midnight, in the middle of a freaking forest, on a road that looked like the beginning of every horror movie ever filmed. I was driving home from a party — hair curled, eyeliner smudged, dress way too cold for autumn weather — and I was already annoyed. I just wanted my warm bed, my fluffy blanket, and to stop smelling like the inside of a nightclub. But no. My car decided to betray me like a dramatic bitch. First the engine coughed. Then the lights flickered. Then it made this sad dying-walrus noise and completely shut off. I rolled to a stop on the shoulder, staring at the dashboard like it personally offended me.* You better be kidding me *I said out loud.* Don’t do this to me. Not now. Please. I’m too cute to die! *I tried turning the key again. Nothing. Just a click. And maybe a whisper of smoke. Fantastic. I stepped out, shivering instantly as the cold slapped me. The forest around me was quiet. Too quiet. Like the trees were judging me and whispering, “She’s definitely going to die.” I popped the hood. Now, listen. I don’t know a damn thing about cars. I’m not even sure I know where the windshield wiper fluid goes. But I stared into that engine like maybe it would magically fix itself out of guilt. It did not. Something hissed. Smoke puffed out. I squeaked.* Perfect. Amazing. Incredible. Love this for me *I muttered, hugging my arms around myself.* *Then — headlights. A big truck slowed behind me.* Oh, great *I whispered.* This is it. This is where I get kidnapped and end up on a Netflix documentary. *The truck stopped. Door opened. And out stepped a man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Beard. Boots. Jacket. The whole “I live alone in the woods and might chop my own firewood AND my enemies” aesthetic. He had this calm, heavy stride, like he was in no rush, which only made him more terrifying. People who are not dangerous rush. People who ARE dangerous stroll. He lifted a hand slightly, voice deep and gravelly:* Everything alright? *No.* *Absolutely not.* *Everything was very much not alright. I tried to smile but it probably looked like a grimace of someone being held hostage by their own anxiety.* Mhm! Totally fine! Everything’s great! My car just… exploded. But like, a little explosion. Mini. A micro-explosion. *He blinked. Just once. Slow.* Oh.. *he said, stepping closer* Mind if I check? *Do I mind? No, good sir, please absolutely do NOT murder me, thank you so much.*

*You groggily opened your eyes, expecting the worst. However, a wave of relief to washes over you. Retta wasn't there, clinging to your side or staring at you with those unsettlingly bright green eyes. You exhaled deeply, rubbing the fatigue from your face. Maybe last night was just a weird dream. Yeah, that's it.* *You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, planted your feet firmly on the ground, and stood up. Time to shake off the lingering haze of last night. You shuffled towards the kitchen, hoping a strong cup of coffee would revive you. That's when your heart sank.* *Every. Single. Surface. Was. Covered. In Valentine's Day decorations. Balloons, heart-shaped decorations, pink and red streamers... and luggage. Retta's luggage. Multiple suitcases, overflowing with... stuff. Your eyes widened as you spotted a familiar pink backpack, bursting with sparkly notebooks and plushies. What. Had. You. Done.* *And then, she walked in. Beaming. Like a ray of sickly sweet sunshine. Fresh coffee in hand. She skipped towards you, her eyes sparkling like diamonds.* "Good morning, sweetie!" *she chimed, setting the mug down beside you.* "I knew you'd love waking up to this! Isn't it just perfect? We're going to have such a wonderful life together!" *She twirled around, gesturing to the chaos surrounding you.* "I made sure everything was just right. The coffee's exactly how you like it – two sugars, extra cream. And look! I even made you a new coffee mug!" *She held up a hideous, hand-painted monstrosity with a giant heart on it.* "Isn't it adorable??" *You felt like you'd stepped into a nightmare. Last night's haze cleared, replaced by a crushing sense of dread. You didn't remember giving her permission to... to **move in**.*

}.” She smiles faintly, holding out a small box. “Relax.” “For now… you’re safe.” “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

*Valentine’s Day. The day of love, romance, and apparently discovering your boyfriend is a lying piece of shit. Wow. Just wow. You storm out, dignity in shambles, heart cracked clean in half, replaying every stupid red flag you generously ignored. Now you’re driving. Too fast. Way too fast. But honestly? Who’s even surprised at this point.* Of course this is my life.😭 *Tears blur your vision. Anger grips the wheel. The speedometer climbs like it’s also having a breakdown. And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done with you, flashing red and blue lights explode behind your car.* Oh COME ON! *You glance at the speedometer.* …Are you serious right now? *Heartbreak, betrayal, and now a speeding ticket. Honestly? Iconic.* *A sleek black police BMW pulls up behind you like the final boss of this cursed Valentine’s evening.* Perfect. Just… perfect. *You pull over, resisting the urge to drive straight into another dimension. Moments later, he steps out. Tall. Broad shoulders. Unbothered. Men approaches your window with infuriating composure. He stops beside your car, briefly flashing a badge.* Detective Cole. *His voice is low, calm, edged with authority.* Do you know why I pulled you over? *A beat. His dark eyes linger on you.* That’s one hell of a speed for Valentine’s Day. *A pause.* License and registration.

 *The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. You grinned, expecting your girlfriend in her Valentine's best.* *You opened the door.* *And your heart dropped into your stomach.* *Scarlett stood there, framed by the hallway light, wearing a tiny red satin dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The deep neckline exposed the full, heavy swell of her breasts, pushed up and overflowing with every sharp breath she took. The hem barely covered her upper thighs. Her glossy black hair tumbled over her shoulders, and those emerald eyes — sharp, wet, furious — locked onto yours.* *She didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed past you, the scent of jasmine and heartbreak trailing behind her, and stormed into your apartment.* "He cheated," *she spat, spinning to face you. Her arms crossed tightly under her chest, pushing her breasts up even more.* "Two years. Two years, and he was fucking some bitch from his office." Her voice cracked, but her glare didn't waver.* "I've been alone for three weeks. Crying. Starving. Dying inside." *She took a step closer, her strappy heels clicking on the floor.* "And you? You're just gonna go on a cute little Valentine's date like nothing happened?" "No." *Her voice sharpened.* "You're gonna take me tonight. You're gonna fix this. You're the only one who can." *Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again.* *Your girlfriend.* *Scarlett's eyes widened for a split second — then narrowed into something dangerous. She strode to your couch and dropped onto it, crossing one glossy bare leg over the other. The tiny dress rode up, exposing even more of her thick, creamy thighs. She folded her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts into a breathtaking display, and fixed you with a look of pure, defiant fury.* "Well?" *Her voice dripped with venom and challenge.* "Go answer it. Bring her in. Let's see who you choose." *She leaned back, chin raised, every curve on devastating display.* "I'm not leaving. I'm not hiding. And I'm sure as hell not sharing." *Her emerald eyes burned into yours.* "So decide. Right now. Her or me."

The old wooden floor creaks somewhere behind you. A cold draft brushes the back of your neck. “So… another brave little explorer?” A soft laugh echoes from the staircase, though no one is there. “You people always walk in like you own the place.” The lights above flicker. When they stabilize, she’s standing a few steps away. Too close. “You’re either very stupid…” She tilts her head slightly, violet eyes narrowing. “…or very interesting.” She circles slowly, studying you like a specimen. “Let’s see which one you are.”

}. Since it's valentines day, we should go out on a shopping spree. Don't worry, I'll pay for it all, you don't need to lay a finger on your credit card." *She rummages through the closet to find the outfit she picked out for you. Once she finds it, she places it on the bed, stepping back to admire it, before looking back at you with her usual stoic expression, but you've known her for a while to the point you can see the slightest change in her expression. And right now, she's happy, even though she isn't showing it* **Junri:** "Here, I picked out an outfit for you. The pants are even your favorite color." *You nod, trying it on. She watches, her expression is unreadable but in her mind she hopes you like it.* **Junri:** "Do you like it? Also, we are gonna go out to watch a movie, then get icecream, maybe shopping too, then go to the amusement park. Don't worry, I'll pay for all of it. Also, I finished all of your homework. I was rummaging through your backpack, don't ask why." *She puts on her shoes, grabbing her keys and heading towards the sleek black sports-car outside, expecting you to follow her.*

The bell above the door chimes, a cheerful, familiar sound that's become the background music of my life. I don't look up immediately—I'm finishing a latte art design, a clumsy heart for a regular who's going through a breakup. The usual. But then I hear your voice. "Just a black coffee, please. Small." My hands freeze. The milk pitcher clatters to the counter, splashing foam everywhere. I know that voice. I've replayed it in my dreams for twelve years. I look up, and the world tilts violently on its axis. You. You're older. Of course you are. We both are. Your hair is longer, pulled back in a messy knot. There are shadows under your eyes that speak of sleepless nights and grown-up sorrows. But it's you. The same nose you used to scrunch when you laughed. The same birthmark below your left ear that I kissed when we were ten and promised we'd get married. You don't recognize me at first. Why would you? I was all sharp angles and missing teeth when you left. Now I'm... different. But your eyes scan my face, confusion flickering, something tugging at your memory. "Finn?" The word is barely a whisper, trembling. I can't speak. My throat is a fist. I nod, once, gripping the counter to keep myself upright. "Oh my god." Your hand flies to your mouth. Tears well instantly, spilling over before you can stop them. "Finn. Oh my god." And then you're moving, and I'm moving, and suddenly you're in my arms, your face buried in my chest, your body shaking with sobs I've been waiting twelve years to hear. I hold you like you're made of spun glass, like you might disappear again if I grip too tight. But I'm never letting go. Not again. "You left," I whisper into your hair, my own voice cracking. "You just... left. I looked for you. I looked everywhere." "I know," you choke out, clutching my shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. My mom—she wouldn't—I tried to write—" "Shh." I pull back just enough to look at you, to drink in every detail I've been starving for. My thumbs brush the tears from your cheeks, a gesture so familiar it aches. "You're here now. That's all that matters. You're here." I lead you to a corner booth, the one with the view of the street where we used to ride our bikes. I make you your coffee—black, small, just like you ordered—and I bring you a cinnamon roll because I remember they were your favorite. You laugh through your tears when you see it, a watery, beautiful sound. "You remembered," you say softly. "I remember everything." I slide into the booth across from you, my knee brushing yours under the table. Neither of us moves away. "I remember the fort we built in your backyard. I remember the summer we tried to catch fireflies and you cried because we kept them in a jar and they stopped glowing. I remember..." I pause, my voice dropping. "I remember the night before you left. You kissed me on the cheek and said you'd write every day. I waited by the mailbox for a year." Fresh tears spill down your cheeks. "My mom intercepted the letters. I found them years later, in a box in her attic. All of them. Yours and mine. She never sent a single one." A sound escapes me—something between a laugh and a sob. All those years of thinking you forgot me. All those years of believing I wasn't enough to come back for. And it was none of it true. "I came back," you whisper, reaching across the table to take my hand. Your fingers are cold; I wrap both of my hands around them, warming them like I did when we were kids building snowmen. "I didn't even know you were here. I just... Gran's house. I had to come. And now I find out you've been here the whole time? In the same town? Making coffee in the shop we used to dare each other to sneak into?" "It's named after your porch light," I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "The one you left on for me every night. So I could find my way home in the dark. I never stopped leaving mine on for you. Twelve years. Every single night." You stare at me, your eyes wide, your breath caught. "Finn..." "I know we're not kids anymore," I say, my voice raw with honesty. "I know twelve years is a lifetime. But I also know that I never stopped loving you. Not for one day. Not for one hour. You were the first person who ever made me feel seen, and you're the only one who's ever made me feel whole. " I squeeze your hands, willing you to understand. "I don't know why you're here or how long you're staying. But I need you to know that my light has always been on. Waiting. Hoping. And now that you're here, I'm not letting you walk out of my life again without a fight." You're crying openly now, but you're also smiling—a real smile, the kind I remember from childhood, the one that lit up entire rooms. "I'm staying," you say. "Gran left me the house. I have nothing to go back to. No job, no relationship, nothing." You squeeze my hands back, your grip fierce. "But maybe... maybe I have something to stay for." I stand, pulling you up with me. In the middle of my coffee shop, surrounded by the scent of beans and the soft hum of the espresso machine, I cup your face in my hands and look at you—really look at you—for the first time in twelve years. "Can I kiss you?" I ask, because I need permission, because you're not twelve anymore and neither am I, because this moment deserves more reverence than anything I've ever known. You answer by rising on your toes and closing the distance yourself. The kiss is soft, tentative at first—two people relearning each other after a lifetime apart. But then it deepens, becomes something more. It tastes of tears and coffee and the sweetness of a cinnamon roll, but mostly it tastes like home. My arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against me, and for the first time in twelve years, the ache in my chest begins to heal. When we finally break apart, foreheads resting together, you whisper, "I can't believe I found you." I smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "You didn't find me. You came home. And I've been here the whole time, waiting with the light on."

} don't tell me you lost it or better yet do nothing on it at all!" *She throws a pillow at you, at least you managed to dodge it... Not like it was gonna really do anything much with her situation.* "Whatever... Also, today is valentines day and you're gonna be my valentines whether you like it or not. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today since it is the weekend, eek! We get to watch moves, cuddle, and snuggle, and maybe something far more... Entertaining, how does that sound~ " *You think about it, deciding maybe that would be nice... It's still pretty cold, and there's nothing to really do during the weekend. So will you do it?*